Negative Phoenix
by manic-intent
Summary: Watanuki wakes up to a nasty surprise in the morning .. sequels. Series of fics written for 31 days. Doumeki x Watanuki.
1. Negative Phoenix

Nov 3

My pillow won't tell me where he has gone

A/N: first attempt at xxxHolic, because I just read books 9 and 10 yesterday; I claim no responsibility for OOCs. :3 I did want to do a fandom I'd done before for this prompt, but nothing came up. And sorry, dying in a car fire – one of my friend's favorite phrases. -.- Also, re the posting time on 31days – I post in Australian time : ( so… sorry, if it seems that I'm posting before the actual day of the prompt, itself. And… I'm sorry, I cannot seem to spell Himawari's name, and my scanlations all have different opinions as to how it's spelled. TT

Negative phoenix 

Watanuki instinctively rolled over into the warm spot of the futon and slammed his hand down on the alarm clock when it jarred him out of a very nice dream involving Himawari and strawberries (not the least scandalous at all, of course, she was such a _sweet_ and _pure_ girl that he would die before his subconscious could even come up with a sordid dream involving her) and the world caught up with him just as he wondered why the sheets smelled differently. Of. Doumeki.

"WHAT THE HELL." He sat up so quickly that spots danced across his eyes, and looked around wildly. Small apartment. Extremely and fussily neat. Nothing out of place (no wait the little framed photograph of him when he was a toddler, in the arms of his parents, was angled a little wrongly). Shoes also slightly displaced. But otherwise everything seemed normal.

He sniffed the futon again, his face darkening. _How in the world?_ That would have to be _disinfected_, and someone was going to DIE. Even if he could remember what happened. And when he meant _die_, it would be in a _car fire_ (slow, painful and merry). When had Doumeki been in his apartment, and why was there a fast-fading depression in his futon that looked like it would fit a frame longer than his, and why did his futon smell of him? (the last two were related, obviously, but Watanuki's mind firmly crawled under a metaphorical rock, whimpering to itself).

Where was the bastard, anyway?

Watanuki stared accusingly at the futon and pillow. However, as inanimate objects were famously incapable of speech – there was no help, to be had, there.

And a post-it note, stuck to the alarm clock, informed him that he was going to be late for preparing breakfast for Yuuko and bento for lunch, (and consequently, school).

--

Nothing came up on the mad dash to Yuuko's shop – though the Dimension Witch looked smug when he stopped, within the door, breathless and panting. She was dressed in something outrageously flimsy – a lattice of butterfly print silk that looked vaguely meant to be kimono-like – for the crisp weather. Mokona bounced onto his shoulder. "Breakfast! Breakfast!" On the second 'Breakfast!' Maru and Moro chimed in, and he forgot to ask Yuuko (discreetly, of course, and as manly as possible) about the Doumeki Futon Scent Incident.

Halfway through helping Yuuko finish off French toast, he choked on his mouthful as she drawled, "Did you wake up alone this morning?"

"I DID WAKE UP ALONE AND IT WAS PERFECTLY NORMAL TO DO SO," Watanuki said, as calmly as he could.

Yuuko nodded – there was a faint smirk, there. "So you don't remember anything."

"I DON'T WANT TO REMEMBER ANYTHIN… yes." Watanuki amended, deciding that it would only be _mature_ to want to know, and besides, there was no way there could be anything _sordid _or _unusual_ about the reason. When Yuuko merely picked herself another slice of French toast, he added, "Well?"

"Information has a price," Yuuko reminded him. "So! I want _chawan mushi_ tonight, and fried Alaska, and cheese fritters."

"Fine," Watanuki muttered. Yuuko reached into her flimsy, voluminous sleeves, and drew out a cork-stoppered tube – within it was a pale, downy feather that seemed to burn continuously with blue flame. When he took it from her, the glass was so cold that he gasped, and hurriedly gripped the cork, instead. "What is it?"

"Still don't remember?" Yuuko peered thoughtfully into his eyes. "Hn. Then perhaps he doesn't, either."

"Who doesn't? Doumeki? What is this?"

Yuuko turned her eyes with exaggerated surprise to the grandfather's clock (a recent acquisition, payment for a little job some blocks away that Watanuki was still trying desperately to forget, since it involved Doumeki having to save him for the one hundredth and thirty-eighth time, not that he was keeping count, it was just natural that he could remember the number, of course, anyone would feel so). "Oh. You're going to be late for class."

"Class! Class!" Mokona, Maru and Moro clamored, and that was the end of it.

--

On the mad rush to school, still nothing failed to come up, and he sat through the whole day with the ice-cold glass tube in his bag. He could feel the freeze through the canvas, whenever it bumped against his hip.

At lunch, Doumeki was blessedly silent, bent over the boxed lunch. Since the feather was very pretty, however, he showed it to Himawari "And Yuuko-san gave me this, this morning."

"Oh! It's so beautiful," Himawari's eyes sparkled with _adorable_ and _cute_ pleasure, and Watanuki felt like fainting into a puddle of happy goo under the table. He was just about to offer to give it to her, when Doumeki picked it out of his hands, studying it with a little frown, fingers on the cork.

"HEY THAT'S MINE," he yelped, scrambling for the tube. Uselessly, of course – Doumeki had longer arms – it was held calmly out of his reach. The free hand poked a finger into the ear closest to him, as a noise buffer. Himawari giggled. Then, when Doumeki's palm inadvertently brushed against the glass, there was a loud hiss, from the feather. Steam, then abruptly, it burst into orange flame. Watanuki's outraged gasp stifled itself, when he realized the feather was still burning, like before, only now he could feel the heat with his fingers only inches away from the glass.

"Hn." Doumeki frowned, and gave it back.

Watanuki growled, touching the tip of his forefinger to the glass – and snatched it back, scalded, sucking on it quickly. When the burn lessened, he hissed, "You broke it!"

Doumeki looked bored. "If it changed when I touched it, it's only because of my aura, idiot."

"WHO'S AN IDIOT YOU CLUMSY WRETCH."

"I think it's prettier," Himawari smiled, looking at the feather, "And this way, it's so much more practical!"

"Of course it's more practical! Himawari-chan is so smart! I could use it to keep food warm!" Watanuki brightened, his anger temporarily forgotten. Break was over too quickly…

--

His curiosity about the blue-feather-that-turned-orange, however, merely increased, and so he found himself waiting for Doumeki to finish his club activities, lounging by the gate to the school as casually as he could. Doumeki, the bastard, didn't even blink when he finally emerged from the school, or when he fell into step.

One street later, Watanuki finally swallowed his pride and asked, "Do you remember anything about yesterday? After school?"

Doumeki glanced at the merrily burning feather in the tube that Watanuki was carefully holding by the cork, and shook his head. "I remember walking you to Yuuko's shop."

"And then Yuuko sent us out to some weird disused parking lot to fetch some sort of stupid wildflower there for some probably male client who had one too many arms." Watanuki nodded. "And when I picked the flower… I don't remember anything else until this morning."

"I remember waking up at your place," Doumeki said, so matter-of-factly that Watanuki flushed.

"I AM SURE THERE WAS A GOOD REASON."

"In your futon, with you, and without clothes," Doumeki added.

"WHAT THE HELL." He was fairly sure he had woken up with clothes this morning. "YOU PERVERT."

Doumeki didn't even smirk – he frowned, as if trying futilely to grip some sort of memory. "You weren't dressed either, so… I dressed us both and went to the temple without waking you."

"WHAT THE HELL YOU PERVERT IT MUST BE SOMETHING YOU DID," Watanuki attempted Phase One of Killing Doumeki Slowly Without a Car Fire in Sight, which was to say attempting to strangle him. Doumeki, however, endured the neck wringing with a half-lidded, faraway stare that unnerved Watanuki so much that he stopped, panting, and muttered, "So why would Yuuko give me the feather? It's not even really an answer."

"We could retrace our steps," Doumeki suggested, reasonably. "The abandoned parking lot."

--

The flower was gone (though little clods of dirt suggested that it had been ripped out, probably in a hurry, and the dug-in arcs next to it fit his shoe size). Outside of a suspicious number of evaporating puddles about the weed-infested lot, and two deep furrows that looked as though something had been dragged against the ground, at one point, there was nothing really suspicious.

No strange spirits, even, and that was _certainly not a strange horrible spirit that was suddenly welling up from the hole where the flower had been and he was certainly not screaming and even if he was screaming it was in a masculine fashion._ "EEEEE."

Doumeki turned around sharply, and let out a soft "oof' as Watanuki backpedaled into him. He frowned, squinting with the shared-sight eye, at the blue smoke that coalesced into a large bird that burned continuously with a blue fire so cold that it withered the plants directly underneath it – a polar opposite of a phoenix, that radiated malevolence. It spread its wings, which flickered with a million hues of blue (and Watanuki noted, objectively, that if he had to die to this creature, well, at least it was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen), and screeched its outrage. Some feathers seemed missing. Doumeki was hurriedly dragging him away (parallel furrows on the ground, now).

He did the first thing he could think of (cold bird, hot feather in tube) and threw the tube at it. The glass froze instantly when it hit the bird on its razor-sharp beak, and shattered. The bird screamed in ear-splitting agony, as the purified feather melted into the beak – and began thrashing on the ground, shuddering, rubbing its head blindly against churning soil, destroying all it touched with deadly cold.

And Watanuki remembered all a sudden – _when they pulled the flower out of the lot the bird had appeared, and it had chased them down several blocks and jabbed its beak at Doumeki, and all unthinking Watanuki had pushed the other boy away, and the beak had pierced his shoulder. And when he'd screamed (oh-God-I'm-going-to-die), he realized that the beak had in fact passed right through, and back again, and instead of bleeding messily to death he seemed to be freezing up slowly, frost gathering over his skin, spreading from the impact. And then there was that probably-male many-armed client, just there, suddenly, and the bird had wheeled and fled. And then he remembered fainting, in a very dignified manner, considering the circumstances. _

A glance at Doumeki – the other boy had remembered, as well – there was a frown. "So, what happened?" Watanuki asked, as conversationally as he could – the bird was still thrashing in the lot, and they were watching from a relatively safe distance.

"I was going to take you to Yuuko-san's shop," Doumeki said, with a tight set to his chin as though he were remembering something unpleasant. "I thought you would die. The client was apologizing all the way, babbling about cause and effect, but in the end he said he could take most of the cold away, but in exchange, our memory would have to go, as well, as a safeguard to us returning to this place out of curiosity. But afterwards when I took you home, you were so cold, still… so…"

"Ah," Watanuki said, awkwardly, and pushed his hands into the pockets of his school uniform.

Doumeki was about to continue, when the bird seemed to implode into blinding white fire, with a final screech – and Watanuki found himself turned and sandwiched against the wall by the other boy, who was shielding him with his body – and he was instinctively clinging to Doumeki's uniform, his eyes squeezed shut, red novas bursting into his retinas.

When the flare died away, he cautiously looked over his arm, blinking away spots – the bird was still there, but orange now, and the heat was like a furnace, even this far away – though nothing around it burned, the air rippled around it. When it turned white-flame eyes towards them, it seemed no longer hostile, only curious, and benevolent.

And the many-armed client with the too-large head appeared (one moment merely a shadow on the ground) and let out a sigh of sheer, heartfelt joy-relief-love, at the sight – the bird sang out a phrase in response; in a language that Watanuki didn't understand. The client bowed at them – Watanuki remembered himself, suddenly, with a flush, and pushed roughly away from Doumeki. One of the many hands pushed the flower into his palms. Then both client and bird vanished.

Feeling that he now had more than enough reason to be hysterical, Watanuki was instead surprised to find that he was feeling calm – gloriously at peace with the world – and it seemed to be radiating from the white bloom in his hands – the petals were open now, not half-furled like yesterday's. Blindly, he reached out and grabbed Doumeki's hand, not registering the soft gasp from the other boy, and let him cup half the flower. From the sudden erasure of tension written into the taller boy's body, he supposed they both felt it. The unnatural, beautiful peace.

And something else. The flower was whispering to him, almost inaudibly, papery, impossibly, in his mind. _Doumeki and a not-quite-friendship. Deeper_. He recalled the diviner's words, and the whispers grew louder and faster – _he realized it only after the cold. He doesn't like it when you speak of girls. And when he had to make sure you were warm… He helps you all the time despite whatever he may be doing. He likes walking you home. His favorite food is what you cook even though it's not the best he's ever eaten. He asks for the hardest food to make because he likes to think you'll spend that much time doing something for him, even if he has to share with Himawari. He always seeks to please, where it's important. And you like –_ then when he felt he could grasp the proffered epiphany, Doumeki suddenly pulled his hand away, leaving Watanuki holding the flower and blinking, dumbly, into the fading light, as the whispers were abruptly cut off. "Eh?"

"I have to get back to the temple," Doumeki said, and uncharacteristically, started walking without even waiting for him. Watanuki stared at the flower – it was wilting rapidly, now – and eye blink later, shriveling into nothing, save a faint, fading scent of peace, in his palm.

"What did you do that for, you jerk," Watanuki sped his steps, realizing with a start that he wasn't shouting – he sounded bewildered, instead. "It was just about to tell me something important."

"You should think such things out yourself," Doumeki retorted, his voice oddly strained, then it smoothened out into calm, before Watanuki, frowning, could begin to grasp how that thread lead to the one that had faded to a scent only in his hand. "Tomorrow, I want _inari-zushi_ and _anago-ippon-nigiri_."

"DIE."

--

Later, while serving Yuuko her rather esoteric choice of appetizers, he asked, "Yuuko-san. What was that bird, and that flower?"

"A negative phoenix," Yuuko said, in between reverent mouthfuls of cheese fritters. "A phoenix whose heart was mostly corrupted, because its area of rebirth became polluted by humans. The client was a powerful and ancient kodama – a friend of mine - who used to know it before its transformation."

"But the flower…?"

"The remnants of a phoenix's pure heart is said to be a powerful tool for communication, understanding and peace," Yuuko said, as she ate another fritter, then she smirked. "Why, what did it tell you?"

"NOTHING." Watanuki flushed. _And you like…_

"OHO." Said Yuuko, quickly echoed by Mokona.

"DOUMEKI PULLED AWAY BEFORE I HEARD ANYTHING." Watanuki said in his Mature Voice of Calm.

"OHOHO!"

"STOP THAT PLEASE."

"It's bad luck to deny the truth whispered by a phoenix's heart," Yuuko grinned, looking deeply amused. The gleam in her eyes informed Watanuki that he would never, ever hear the end of this. "Why, you should go over to the temple, right now! There are so many fritters, and I am sure he'll like them."

"I HATE ALL OF YOU."

-fin-


	2. Open till Late

November 8. the hardcore and the gentle

A/N: The term hardcore immediately made me think of gaming, instead of smut. Sad. Sequel to Negative Phoenix.

Open till Late

"Yuuko-san! Sorry I'm late… oh." Watanuki popped his head into the room, blushed when he saw he had interrupted Yuuko speaking with a client, and ducked out again. "Sorry!"

The client – a thin, middle-aged man with watery, constantly-amused brown eyes and black hair teased carefully but ineffectively over a balding spot on his head – laughed. "No, no, it's all right. Yuuko-san, I take that is the employee you spoke of?"

"One of them, yes, Hashimo-san," Yuuko said, and added, "Come in, Watanuki-kun. Maru and Moro can get the tea."

Watanuki stepped warily into the room, just as Maru and Moro bounced away down the corridor, their squeals of "Tea! Tea!" fading away.

Yuuko sat demurely across the client at a low table, dressed in what was for her terribly casual clothing – an elaborate, ruffled crimson blouse with iridescent green cuffs, over tastefully faded jeans, the hems inset with flakes of mother-of-pearl. Her long hair was coiffed with white ribbons that fluttered down her back. Elegant fingers indicated that he take a seat next to her, which he did so, after an awkward bow at the man. Something about him seemed familiar…

Which clicked, when he saw a plastic-wrapped game on the table, autographed on the cover with a flamboyant _Ushiya Hashimo_, over what looked like a limited edition art book. Both book and game sat on a closed, silvery metal suitcase. "THE DIRECTOR OF 'ENDLESS DREAMING'!" he yelped, overbalancing and nearly sprawling into Yuuko's lap.

Hashimo laughed (with the slightly startled expression of a newcomer to Watanuki's… liveliness…), and inclined his head. "Guilty as charged. Now, Yuuko-san, I am sorry for having to rush. Is the payment sufficient?"

Yuuko reverently moved the game and book onto the table, and opened the suitcase. Within it was a sleek black box and a pair of game controllers. She nodded, and closed the case. "Sufficient payment, thank you. Are you sure you cannot stay for tea?"

Hashimo checked his watch, and shook his head, regretfully. "I have a meeting in an hour – which I am already going to be late for – and then I have to pack for a presentation in America. What about I make it up to you in March, Yuuko-san? Things should be less hectic by then."

Yuuko inclined her head gracefully. "Very well. I will send notice to you when your wish is granted."

"Thank you very much, Yuuko-san," Hashimo bowed low over the table. "This takes a huge load off my mind."

"Avoid Chinese food in America," Yuuko advised, almost absently, her eyes fixed on the case. "Watanuki-kun, please escort Hashimo-san to the door."

--

Yuuko was nowhere to be seen in the room he had left her, and it took a moment for Watanuki to connect the payment with Yuuko's preoccupation – he wandered towards Yuuko's 'study', which was really a couch, a table (for beer) and a large television (all payments). When he entered, Yuuko had already successfully set up the wiring, and turned on the television with a crow of triumph.

Watanuki was sure his eyes were wide to the point of likely permanently straining his eyelids. "PLAYSTATION THREE? ENDLESS DREAMING FOUR?"

"OHOHO!" Yuuko cheered. Mokona raised the game case above its head with its stubby limbs.

"BUT BUT THAT SHOULD ONLY BE OUT NEXT YEAR… BUT BUT HE…" Watanuki pointed a shaky finger at the screen, then at Yuuko. "What about the wish?"

"Thank you for volunteering, Watanuki-kun."

"Ganbatte!" Mokona bounced up and down on the spot.

"WHAT? BUT BUT I… BUT BUT YOU…" Watanuki gave up again, with an exhalation. "Fine. What must I do?"

"Go to three-twenty Shisenka road around eight at night. Oh, and bring Doumeki, ask him to take his bow. And tonight make something which can be eaten in front of the television."

As Watanuki stalked out of the study, growling under his breath, there was a faint, "And buy beer!" behind him.

--

"I'm only asking you along because Yuuko told me to bring you along and it has nothing to do with anything else so don't get any ideas that I'm asking you to go because I want to or something or need you to come along," Watanuki took a deep breath at that point, oxygen-starved. Since the phoenix heart, things between himself and Doumeki had become somewhat… strained. Brittle politeness only, whenever they had to interact or go on Yuuko's errands. Himawari had asked Watanuki privately what was wrong, but he couldn't bring himself to tell her about it, instead putting it off to stress over the upcoming exams.

Doumeki stared at him, expressionless, for a long moment, then nodded. "I'll get changed."

When Doumeki reappeared, this time in jeans, a plain brown greatcoat and sneakers, his bow slung across his back, Watanuki stuck freezing fingers into his own jacket pockets, and avoided the other boy's eyes. The walk to Shisenka took place in uncomfortable silence.

--

320 Shisenka road was a corner building that smelled of cigarettes and socks – unlike the rest of the buildings on the street, it was lit, if dimly. Even from the street, Watanuki could hear the dull booming of gunshots and computer-generated voices. At the door was a faded sign that read 'Dream World Net Café – Drinks and Games, Open till Late'.

"Um…" Watanuki blinked, looking around. Nothing seemed untoward. "I don't see…"

Doumeki checked his watch. "We're early. There's still ten minutes to eight."

"Ah," Watanuki said, awkwardly, wishing that they had walked a little more slowly. They stood under a streetlight – he looked at the spreading shadows, under his feet, and felt himself becoming more and more uncomfortable. Keeping silent was not particularly part of his nature.

A sigh, from Doumeki, made him grimace. "Doumeki…"

"Still haven't thought it out?" Doumeki asked, with an unusual, hesitant note in his voice.

Watanuki observed his breathing, for a while – white puffs in the air, his cheeks prickly with cold. "Sort of. Doumeki, what did the phoenix's heart tell you?"

Doumeki glanced away. "Nothing I didn't already know."

"Jerk. That's not an answer," Watanuki muttered. Another breath. "But did you hear what it said to me?"

"No. But I could guess."

"Oh." Watanuki was sure the heat at his cheeks now had little to do with the cold. "Doumeki, I…"

"It's time," Doumeki cut in, and began walking towards the shop.

"Hey. Hey, wait!" Watanuki started off after him, then covered his nose hastily with a hand, coughing. A too-familiar stench suddenly surrounded the building – along with roiling blue smoke, choking him. Hands on his shoulder steadied him as he stumbled – he looked up through watering eyes to see Doumeki, frowning and squinting through the shared eye. "This…"

"Stay here, I'll take a look," Doumeki said, dragging him out of the smoke and setting him gently against a wall.

"No, you can't…" But the other boy had already run back into the smoke. Watanuki waited uneasily, shivering and trying to will strength and sense into his legs. _Stay here_. He couldn't do that – whatever it was, it was strong, and… and there was something about letting Doumeki go into _that_, by himself, which felt so wrong that he was compelled to take a step forward. That _jerk!_ If his stupidity got him hurt, Watanuki was going to _kill_ him. Logic settled, he took another step forward, then yelped (in a masculine way, of course) when someone tapped his shoulder.

He looked around to see a worried looking, hunched man in a garish pink, too-large windbreaker, worn over gray shorts that in this weather really should have frozen his skinny legs off. "Who… who are…"

"You're here about the problems with the shop? Hashimo said he'll send someone today," the man asked, glancing over at the building. "Scares me, it does, what happens at eight."

"What happens at eight? Who are you?"

"Oh. Forgive my rudeness. I am Fumo Yeshiyo, owner of Dream World," Yeshiyo bowed slightly. "What happens at eight… er… it's hard to explain. But you know how usually in a lan Café there's shouts and talk? Normal to gaming. But at eight… it seems to just turn off. Silence. And everybody playing gets this blank look in their eyes. Seriously eerie. So I turned to an old friend and classmate of mine for help, after the usual methods of priests didn't work out too well."

"Didn't… work out too well?"

"The last few priests either didn't come out again, or came out totally blank. Like zombies. Permanently," Yeshiyo said, with a sigh. "I've tried turning off the power, throwing people out early – doesn't work. They break in, sit down, and the computers turn on anyway. It's really… oi, where are you going? It'll be dangerous!"

_Permanently_. Watanuki ran into the smoke, covering his nose with his jacket sleeve and trying to squint so that the tears from inhaling the dizzy stench wouldn't blind him, groping blindly for the doorframe. It was icy to the touch – and disgustingly slimy – he jerked his hand away, and staggered on.

Dimly, he could make out neat rows of computers, as he leaned heavily against what was likely the counter. Light from the screens illuminated the otherwise pitch-black room, showing rows upon rows of silent, still people, their eyes blank and focused on the computers. Thin yellow lines ran from between their eyes into the screens – their hands were flat on the keyboard, but unmoving.

And in a corner, the smoke rolling off a space around him but inching inexorably closer, was Doumeki, bow in hand, his head turning as he searched for something. Their eyes met, as he glanced towards the counter, and Watanuki saw Doumeki's ever present serene calm in the face of any danger crack, just a little. "_Watanuki_!"

The smoke stopped trying to attack Doumeki's aura – instead, Watanuki could see it coalescing around himself, forming faces in myriad expressions of savagery and disappointment that formed at one moment and melted away into the smoke the next, hands gripping rifles that liquefied into knives, grenades, then swords, and the bloodlust was so keen that he stumbled back against the counter, hands thrown up before his face, instinctively expecting a _oh-shit-I'm-still-too-young-to-die _blow.

Then, to his relief, the sensation of a release of pure spirit energy, impact, an inhuman scream, and a wind that carried a stench that made that of the smoke pale in comparison, and there were familiar arms that scooped him up, footsteps, and he was on his knees on freezing cold concrete, gasping for air and sneezing, dizzy with shell-shocked relief. A tense voice against his ear, arms tight around his waist. "Watanuki? Watanuki? Can you hear me?"

"I'm fine. Fine." Watanuki shook his head, to clear out the last painful echoes of the shriek, taking deep breaths, then looking back hurriedly over his shoulder. The smoke was dissipating, and a few confused-looking people were staggering out onto the street.

"You… you guys did it," Yeshiyo was blinking, sounding awed, disbelieving. "Whatever it was. Everyone looks fine now. Thank… thank you so much. Here… your friend doesn't look so well… come to the backroom, I'll make some hot cocoa."

--

The hot cocoa helped – when they bid Yeshiyo goodbye and started into the dark night, Watanuki could walk by himself. Doumeki was expressionless again, the bow at his back.

Somehow, it felt more awkward than ever. Watanuki decided to start first, this time. "Thanks."

Doumeki blinked at him, slowly, as if it wasn't necessary, then looked away. "It had to… it had to solidify first. Before that, when it was just smoke, the arrows did nothing."

Watanuki nodded, numbly. The voice that called his name had been edged with desperation and fear that had been painful to hear. "Doumeki…"

"You should stop working for Yuuko. Like this, that is." Doumeki muttered. "I'll take up your debt instead."

"What? NO!" Watanuki whirled on his companion. "I can pay it back myself!"

"That thing… it nearly… it could have hurt you. I _thought_ it hurt you," Doumeki said, flatly. "How many times has something like this happened, on one of Yuuko's errands? How many times have we been attacked by monsters that go straight for you, because of whatever it is that you are? How many times must I…" lips thinned, and Doumeki stared firmly forward.

Taken aback by far more words that Watanuki had ever heard Doumeki say in one breath, he was silent, for a while. That was true. Yuuko's errands were occasionally life threatening, especially when it was specified that Doumeki was to go with him, almost always odd, and always, always fascinating. Before them, Watanuki felt he had been encased in the ordinary shell of what-everybody-saw – would likely have gone the rest of his life never trying the most incredible oden in the world, seen the manna-tree, walked with ghosts, spoke with cats, seen the world-in-a-jar. "It's worth it," he found himself saying. "Sometimes I don't feel like I'm working at all."

Doumeki exhaled, angrily.

"I can't go back to…" _being blind like everybody else_. "Not anymore. But I'm… sorry, that well, that you have to come along each time…"

"Idiot," Doumeki snorted. _I'll come even if you didn't ask me._

Watanuki smiled, wryly. "Doumeki. What the phoenix's heart said. I like you. And that is true."

An inhalation, this time sharp, of shock. "What… really?"

"But that doesn't mean I'm _gay_, or that we're going to start going out or living together or exchanging valentine's gifts or that I'm going to be doing anything _girly_ like writing you letters or _whatever_!" Watanuki added, hastily, with a glare and a pointed finger. Doumeki's stunned expression changed into a fleeting smile, that made him look so much more handsome – then a snort of laughter. "ARE YOU LAUGHING AT ME?"

"No," Doumeki said, and began to chuckle (breathless, astonished relief).

"FORGET WHAT I SAID, I HATE YOU."

--

"Beer." Watanuki said, dumping the bottles down on the table. "And _shidashi bento_."

Yuuko nodded, her eyes fixed on the screen and the gorgeously rendered characters. "Not too much trouble at the café?"

"None," Watanuki sat down beside her, helping Mokona open the first bento box. "That guy probably overpaid you for it."

Yuuko smirked. "The shop was only part of it. I also made him some charms for other places which may concern him."

"Charms? You mean… wait, we DIDN'T have to go in the first place?" Watanuki glared at Yuuko. "YUUKO!"

"Ah, but no doubt you learned something important didn't you?" Yuuko grinned, unrepentant, as she paused the game and picked up her box of bento.

Watanuki blushed – which made Yuuko and Mokona laugh. Since the only recourse in response to being laughed at by a fat bunny like animal was either dignified retreat or distraction, he said, "Whatever it was, it had so much…"

"Bloodlust?" Yuuko arched an eyebrow, as she dipped tempura into sauce. "Yes. Spirits are attracted to people with murderous intent. And in a lan shop, there is much of that. Something old was feeding on the killing energy of this shop's players whenever it woke up at night, and getting stronger."

"It um… hurt some priests."

Yuuko nodded. "Possibly at this point only very few people – Doumeki included – could have done anything about it."

"But there are lots of other such cafes around…"

"Oh, this one was a coincidence. Built just near enough to a certain graveyard," Yuuko shrugged gracefully. "SO. Did you talk to Doumeki?"

"Uh." A thought struck him. "DON'T TELL ME YOU MADE ME FACE THAT THING JUST SO I WOULD TALK TO HIM."

Yuuko smirked. "Of course not!"

"GOOD."

"I did it so that you would both have to talk to each other!"

"WHAT." Watanuki leaped to his feet. "THIS IS CHILD ABUSE!"

"Help me open that bottle of beer."

"OPEN IT YOURSELF."

-fin-


End file.
